


Tonight

by A_Kid_Named_Hiro



Series: Tuli-chan and H's Prompt Challenge [9]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 12:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13834476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Kid_Named_Hiro/pseuds/A_Kid_Named_Hiro
Summary: Promptselected byTuli-chan.





	Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> **[Prompt](https://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/171158510521/imagine-person-a-and-b-are-both-introverts-so)** selected by **[Tuli-chan.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuliharja/pseuds/Tuliharja)**

You love to dance when no one's watching you but me.

There is moonlight in your hair. You free it from your messy ponytail, whip it about like those hot chicks do in those stupid teen flicks you pretend to hate, just 'cause you know it makes me laugh. 

Your hair is so much like you. Wild and complicated and _every-fucking-where._

I watch you dance to the rhythm of the ocean. Your toes in the sand. The waves breaking just above your ankles, darkening the heavy fabric of those ridiculous red jeans that I know Izuna bullied you into wearing tonight. You'd let him bully you into just about anything. 

You're not an elegant dancer. You're all arms and shoulders and languid, swaying hips. Out of rhythm with every step. I know that — if you knew what I was thinking — you'd argue it only looks stupid 'cause there isn't any music playing right now. 

But I've watched you dance before. To your favorite songs blaring from your iPod. To the music in your head. To the rhythm of your footsteps against a sidewalk. The symphony of a thunderstorm. The song of cicadas and the breaking of waves. 

You move in your own time, your own way. Jerky and unselfconscious, an endearing air of innocence about you. You are the dorkiest, clumsiest, most breathtaking dancer I've ever seen.

You grin at me and curl your finger in the cheesiest come-hither gesture. You are all teeth and a mockery of flirtation, an arresting thing beneath moonlight and starlight and cloying summer heat. 

"Dance with me, Tobirama," you say. Your laugh bubbles like the water at your feet. Your arms spread as if you're trying to measure the sky.

I make my way into the ocean. I can never resist your freedom. I can never resist _you._

I pull you into my arms and dip you, an imitation of those suave guys in those ridiculously dorky movies masquerading as classics that I know Kushina practically _lives_ for. 

You are startled laughter and saltwater hair, firework eyes and a too-warm body. 

Together, we dance.

  


* * *

  


Would it embarrass you if I confessed that you're the reason I'm here tonight?

You're a beautiful contradiction. So unafraid to be yourself around me, so scared of letting your feelings show. 

So unaware of how I truly feel about _you._

I have never been blind to your feelings for me. You are the easiest to read, every emotion and thought displayed in your too-expressive eyes, even when your face tries its hardest to be a guarded, stoic thing.

But it's the truth. Kushina dragged me here tonight, even when I know she had no need of my company, even when I know that _she_ knows I hate stuff like this.

 _"Live a little, Doa-chan,"_ is what she always says. 

But partying at the beach disco on a Saturday night, amid cheap beer, body odor, and bad house music has never been my definition of living.

I'm only here because I knew _you_ would be too.

Earlier tonight, I emerged from a sea of epileptic strangers to find you by the snack table, looking somewhere between uncomfortable, amused, and appalled. You were ethereal beneath the strobe of pink and blue, green and orange.

When you spotted me, relief was evident in your eyes.

I said, "Walk with me."

And you did.

  


* * *

  


We fall upon the sand, breathless. 

Soaked to the bone from when we'd tumbled into the water, laughing like we've got no reason to be lonely, even though we're the only ones here right now. 

I could never be lonely when I'm being alone with you.

Your eyes are dark as they are bright. I lay on my side and watch you watch the sky. Your hair, speckled with sand, a clumpy, wet mess beneath you. I know you'll bitch about it later, but in this moment, you do not seem to care. 

Even when your laughter dies, your smile doesn't leave your face. I like the way it curves your cheek, the way your face looks with happiness upon it. The way you look like you don't even realize it's there. 

Your chest that rises and caves with each breath. The _Murder on My Mind_ t-shirt that clings to your slender frame. Your absurd red jeans, stained dark with seawater. Your bare feet, wearing sand like shoes.

In this moment, I want nothing more than to kiss you.

But the moment is perfect as it is. I don't want to be distracted from it, to mar this flawless piece of time with something as commonplace as desire.

So I lie here, content to simply look at you.

  


* * *

  


We walk farther along the beach and we find them, this group of kids around a campfire. We were like them once, acting like we were invincible 'cause we were young and dumb enough to believe it.

They invite us to join them. There are smiles and pot and beer all around. I think it wouldn't hurt to sit for a minute, if only so I can watch the way shadows play upon your face by firelight. 

Kushina always asks, _"When are you going to tell him you love him?"_

But I can't. 

Not because it isn't true, but because we're so much _more_ than that. 

Than life. Than _love._

Most days, I think there aren't enough words in the world to describe what you are to me.

I watch you sip your beer. Watch you smile. You're more at ease here, with this little group of strangers we've only just met, than with the strangers at the beach disco, most of whom we've known since middle school.

There are never enough words.

 _Somedays,_ though. 

I think I could try. And maybe I could start with _this._

"Hey," I say, to this kid who's quietly strumming _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ on an acoustic guitar. "Mind if I borrow that?"

He looks up at me, surprise blatantly displayed upon his face. A moment's hesitation, then he nods and hands it over. 

Some of the kids start making requests. But there's only one song I want to play. 

I start strumming, and I begin to sing. 

And my gaze doesn't leave yours for a minute.

  


* * *

  


When it's over, it _isn't._

I know they're saying something, this cacophony of voices. I see their lips move, their hands gesturing, clapping. Smiles on their faces, but it's all a blur because right now, you're the only thing that stands out. Art amid chaos and suspended time. 

You're staring at me, eyes wide, the dark depths of them alive with myriad emotions. The flush on your cheek. Your lips parting around the shape of my name. "Tobirama, that's — " 

And you can't seem to find the words. 

But it's okay, because I have always known your heart.

  


* * *

  


We sit by the shoreline, watching the waves rush toward us. 

You make a pretty picture, arms relaxed upon your raised knees. 

I lean back, legs stretched out, the sand moist and cool beneath my palms. I enjoy wasting all this time with you. 

"The song," you ask, sounding afraid and curious and overwhelmed all at once. "What was it called?"

I can't help but think how cute you are right now, gaze fixed upon the horizon, steadfastly _not_ looking at me. 

So I reach over to brush the hair from your face. 

And I say, _"You."_


End file.
